To All Things An Ending
by tielan
Summary: To the peoples of Pegasus, it is less important that you be remembered well, than that you be wellremembered. [episode epilogue for 'Sunday']


**NOTES**: The Latin phrase runs along the lines of "_de mortuis nil nisi bonum_" - "speak nothing but good of the dead". I don't imagine that the Pegasus cultures speak Latin.

**To All Things An Ending**

The high pile of bracken and wood sits waiting as the last glimmer of sun's gold slips down behind the blue-shadowed mountains along the horizon.

Teyla holds the torch high in her hand, carefully turning so the flame doesn't singe her hair, and looks out across the field of people.

Although the news was sent to many worlds, they did not expect so many to come. Times are troubled; there is news of not only the Wraith, but the Asurans. What Atlantis has awoken, all Pegasus pays the price - the Asurans are less than kind to the humans they encounter, believing that by destroying humanity, they can also destroy the Wraith.

Still, Teyla has counted the peoples of over thirty worlds, many of them called friend to Athos, if not to Atlantis.

Yet they have come to New Athos tonight.

The people are seated and quiet. Here and there, a child wails at the cold, but few pay the babe mind as she lifts the torch, not quite trembling with the strain.

"You have heard of the death of Carson Beckett. Now hear of his life."

The torch is flung into the prepared kindling - not without an ache of strain in her still-healing side - and the fire builds as the light of the sky fades.

That simply, it begins.

Ladon Radim claimed the first right; the pride of the Genii. He helps Teyla down from the rock as his sister Dahlia climbs up. His hands offer solid support as Teyla's fingers clench around his in sudden pain, but when he would help her to sit, she shakes her head at him and allows herself to be handed off to Halling.

He climbs easily up to the top of the flat rock, with the lithe grace of a _hireni_ deer. Teyla remembers challenging him to races through the forest as children. She was always faster, but he was always more cunning.

It is that cunning which made him leader of the Genii, which makes him ally to Atlantis. "The Genii speak through myself - Laden Radim. In times past, we have had little cause to love the people from whom Carson Beckett came. Yet, in a time when he had no reason to offer us hope, Dr. Beckett gave back to the Genii the lives of ones we loved."

Dahlia steps forward, her delicate face drawn with quiet grief. "I was dying, and willing to die in sacrifice for my people. The cause was good - for the Genii way of life and our hope for the future. But whatever he thought of my people and our methods, Dr. Beckett offered his assistance to us. There was gain in it for his people, but he offered it to us, without obligation."

In the darkness, with only the fire's light, it is difficult to see Dahlia's eyes, but Teyla thinks she might glimpse tears that sheen the young woman's gaze. "I was resigned to die, Dr. Beckett would not condone resignation; and for my life, I'm grateful."

Ladon turns towards Elizabeth, standing down by the bonfire. "We're a proud people, but not too proud to acknowledge what Carson Beckett did for the Genii. In his death, we speak of his life."

And with that ending, the Radims climb down from the stone, ceding their place to others who wish to share of the fragments when they knew Carson Beckett, of what they owe to him.

There are many others.

As the litany continues, Teyla allows herself to reflect a little.

Death is a constant companion here, nothing new. She has lived with the awareness of her mortality since she was six and her mother taken by the Wraith. But this meeting of people is not common, even in Pegasus. There are few who transcend the boundaries of planet and culture so effectively. Teyla's father was one such, who acted as both a leader to his people and an intercessor between others.

Carson was another.

The stories are not all shining. A life is lived in the light and in the shade. What was wrought by Carson was not always good, it could not always be undone. But more than a few are willing to speak for what he tried to do as well as what he did. And those who carry bitterness - their voices are here as well, to be heard and to be purged.

One voice is Maesther of Hoffa, whose people developed a drug that created immunity to the Wraith with Carson nearly two years past. She speaks in both praise and condemnation - praise of the drug he helped the Hoffan scientist Perna develop, and condemnation of Carson's withdrawl in the face of the Hoffan willingness to sacrifice themselves.

Teyla only glimpses the brief frown that crosses Elizabeth's face as Maesther speaks out. When the woman shifts, her expression troubled, she supposes that the Lanteans are not comfortable with this honesty.

She does not hold that as reason to stop the litany of Carson's deeds in life.

Maesther's bitterness is not unreasonable - had Teyla's own people been offered the choice, she suspects that they, too, would have chosen as did the Hoffans. But she had already thrown in her lot and the lot of her people with Atlantis; they were her allies and she had little else.

And John spoke prophetically: Hoffa is no more.

The tales go on for hours. Some arrive and some leave. Food and drink are passed quietly around, and blankets brought from the camp as the night draws colder. Those who have, share, and while the Lanteans refuse much of what is offered them, they offer their own to those around them.

When Elizabeth catches her taking the Lantean painkillers, she arches a brow, but Teyla shakes her head, dismissing it. She does, however, accept another blanket from Halling.

Sometime in the mid-night, when the second moon rises high and full over the gathering, the voices fall silent.

It falls to Teyla to end what was begun this night.

She glanced at Elizabeth once before asking if the other woman wished to speak, but the Lantean shook her head. She will not offer a memory here, and Teyla wonders if it is not as well. The man that the expedition knew was one and the same as the man who worked among those in Pegasus, but the expedition saw him with the eyes of Earth - as one of their own.

This is not Earth.

Teyla, alone, out of all those gathered here today, has come closest to seeing Carson from both the viewpoint of Earth and the viewpoint of those in Pegasus.

And she called this Life's Litany; it is hers to end.

She rises to her feet, refusing offers of assistance by both Elizabeth and Halling, and forcing the pain of her side away. In her ears, Carson chides her for being foolish; but his memory is worth the pain. He could not accept the Hoffan price for an end to the Wraith, but he is not here to protest Teyla's price for speaking of the man she knew.

When she reaches the top of the stone slab, she is panting and her side aches in revenge, but pride holds her upright in the cold, clear night - pride and love.

Her chin lifts and she speaks, slowly and clearly, that all may hear.

"You have heard of the death of Carson Beckett. You have heard of his life. Yet there is always more. No-one here has the full knowledge of all he did and all he was - even Carson himself did not.

"He did what he thought was right, and tried to mend what he felt he had rent." Michael's face rises before her eyes, his eyes burning with the hatred for what was done to him. Teyla banishes it. "He had the strength to forge onwards, and the pride to believe he could do things that should perhaps not have been tried, and the humility to admit his wrongs. Although he was not a warrior in body, he was a warrior in his spirit, and I will never forget that." She turns to survey the shifting, moving crowd of people. "And yet, in the end, I will remember Carson Beckett for this: that he was my friend and I loved him.

"Go from here and remember."

That simply, it ends.

Those who have stayed to the end begin to leave. It will be a long, slow night of departures from New Athos, although a number of groups will leave to other worlds before seeking out their own, easing the wait-time on Athos.

When Teyla climbs down from the stone, accepting assistance, Elizabeth is standing quietly to the side, accepting the acknowledgements of those who pass. She has arranged for them to remain on Athos tonight - it will be easier on them and herself than returning to the bustle and business of Atlantis.

Even leaders sometimes require time and space.

They wait until everyone who will leave is gone before making the long, slow climb back up the hill to the Athosian encampment. Some remain behind with the fire - they will not come up until dawn. Teyla remains in the rear, unwilling to hinder anyone with her injury. And Elizabeth keeps pace with her, while Halling waits for them, his expression easy and thoughtful, his eyes concerned for Teyla.

Her side is hurting before they are halfway back, and when she pauses to rest, Elizabeth rests with her and speaks, although she has been silent before. "Teyla? Thank you for letting us observe the...ceremony." She hesitates, her face downturned to watch the uneven path before her. "I never thought that Pegasus might want to say good-bye to Carson as well."

Teyla does not belabour the omission. "The bodies of our dead are not so important to us," she says, reminding Elizabeth of the shadow under which Pegasus has lived for generations upon generations. "Memory is."

"And Carson will be remembered well?"

"He will be well-remembered," says Teyla gently. In the way of life, she considers that more important than being remembered with fondness.

Perhaps her friend understands, because Elizabeth nods. "To all things a time and place, and to everything a season."

She is not given to casual physical contact. Neither is Elizabeth. But she holds out her hand, and the other woman takes it, fingers clasping tight in quiet friendship and the reassurance of humanity. From different worlds, yet very much alike.

"To all things an ending," Teyla says softly.

It is only when they start climbing again that they let go.

- **fin** -


End file.
